And Here I Found My Home
by ilynn
Summary: More than any other room in the house, the studio feels like home.


"This is so awesome!"

The only thing Beca can do is slap her palm against her forehead at the change of pitch in Emily's voice as she escorts her into the studio. The talk goes from normal (or as normal as Emily ever gets) to something Beca can only read as honest excitement. It's hard to describe anything Emily does as anything less than honest, so it's good, in a way, that she's the first one to see the room.

Or well, the third, if you count her and Chloe. She's pretty sure the two of them don't count, though, so the first proper opinion she gets is fangirling from the newly graduated girl. It's not surprising in the least. The initial fear Beca has disappears, she can let go of it completely.

If only. "See, there was nothing to be afraid of, Becs," Chloe's voice echoes the room as a reminder that yes, she's had her share of weakness. Five minutes before Emily came over, even, but she chooses to pass over that little detail with a firm nod that makes no sense to anyone but

her.

Chloe's arms wrapping around her waist - her head falling ever so gently on Beca's shoulder -are perhaps the reason she doesn't roll her eyes or scowl. Or at least she doesn't look too disapproving.

"I love the chairs," Emily doesn't even hear it, and honestly Beca's a little relieved at the realization. Because the girl bounces from corner to corner with her hands behind the back (Beca's already warned her about touching), inspecting every piece in the room.

What holds her attention is the emptiness of the room behind the glass, save for a grand piano in the corner and a microphone laced with headphones over it.

"Chloe wanted to make the place more 'homey'," Beca, of course, uses air quotes. If she were the only one decorating the studio, she would've just put the equipment and not much more than a chair or two. Instead, she's staring at a make-shift living room behind the soundboard and the computers. It's fine, she still has two office chairs she's wanted to buy and the armchairs and the coffee table are a small price to pay for Chloe's smile.

Emily nods, and Beca hears Chloe let out a satisfied sigh as she leans more into her. "And you got the piano, too," Emily notes, the obvious statement punctuated with her finally turning her attention to Beca instead of her studio. "I love everything," comes out before Beca can utter a word in reply, probably far too high pitched, but she never seems to notice that.

"It was a gift from my dad, apparently he's proud," Beca says it so nonchalantly, and Chloe kisses her shoulder in agreement.

"Well, I'm proud, too," Emily ends up at their side faster than Beca can react. Group hugs aren't so bad when there's only two people around her, whatever. She'll make sure to give them a hard time about it when she's not incredibly happy that this is finally happening.

* * *

The first recording session belongs to, of course, Emily. Everyone's a little excited, but maybe Chloe and Emily show it a little too much for Beca to crack a smile. (She gives in later, but that's mixed with finishing a song and a lot of things Cynthia Rose says.)

They go over Emily's cues first, as if she doesn't know them already. It goes on until Chloe enters the room with Cynthia Rose with a tray of snacks and drinks, and that's when Beca's explanation falls flat. Her throat refuses to provide any more sound than it has up until that point, and Emily has to wave her hand in front of Beca's face to get her back from wherever she escaped to.

Beca sees every nightmare she's ever had right in front of her when Chloe holds that tray. She sees it falling and spilling all over her equipment. She sees it ruining every bit of technology in the room. So she holds up her hand because, for a few long moments, that's the only thing she can do.

"I said none of that," she warns, voice wavering slightly as she tries to get a grip of it. It's embarrassing, but not noted as she watches (carefully, glaringly) Chloe with a fixed gaze that's rather similar to the one she held when they had a conversation about her stand on food in bed. She caved then, and the sweet smile that plays coyly on Chloe's lips tells her she's fighting a losing fight.

Chloe nods, slowly making her way to the armchairs and putting the tray on the coffee table. The drama of the moment escapes everyone but Emily, who watches with fascination. She doesn't hold herself back enough not to take a few chips and eat them with satisfaction. Maybe

satisfaction is not the best word for it. Interest, more likely, because she still follows the exchange closely.

"You did, but this isn't close to your things, babe," Chloe calls out on a loophole in their agreement. It's not really a loophole, honestly, because proximity is apparently a rather subjective subject in their household. Beca hears it and she assumes nowhere close is at least in the other room, but Chloe's never got the whole concept of personal space, so her close is much closer than Beca likes.

For this, at least. As far as personal space goes, she's used to it.

The tension quantifies when a low, long breath rolls past Beca's lips. "Damn, this is some intense shit," Cynthia Rose provides, already taking her place in one of the armchairs. She intends to break the silence, but it earns her a glare so she shuts up.

"I meant no food or drinking in here, Chloe. Close wasn't right behind me, that's still dangerous," Beca herself acknowledges that this argument won't reach above that point because that's when Chloe takes her cue to sit down next to Cynthia Rose and Beca can only resign.

"Oh come on, we'll be very cautious. We want to hear Emily now."

* * *

They listen.

They spend the whole day listening to the same damn song over and over again. If you ask Cynthia Rose, it's too much of a hassle to become either a singer or a producer.

The song sounds good, at least, that's what she can give them. Not that anyone had any doubts about it.

* * *

The second time the studio is used, it's not for recording. Beca plays the piano by herself for a while, testing out the sound through a few bars of some songs before she goes on playing her own things. It's been years, really, but she still remembers some of the notes that have been so important back in college. There's no lyrics, which is good because the piano playing is a little rusty itself, she couldn't handle adding voice to that.

And Chloe doesn't mean to make herself look like a stalker when she stands leaning against the soundboard with a spark in her eyes that comes out only every once in a while. Its prominence is when Beca does something she seldom indulges in, like playing the piano. It's not like Chloe to choose a thing she loves the most about a person, but this would be top five, definitely.

Not that she's thought about it.

"What are you doing here?" is Chloe's sign to pull herself out of her train of thought and walk into the booth. It's not an invitation, but Beca's seen her now and she's not going to try and resist the temptation. She doesn't go into the booth often, a few times here and there, but she ends up liking the other side of the glass better.

"My boss sent me home early," she shrugs her shoulders absentmindedly as she approaches the piano. Beca's already turned to her, moving to stand in front of Chloe. She has a certain color in her cheeks that Chloe doesn't dare mention. To keep the words down, she leans in and presses her lips against Beca's.

She really shouldn't find this as attractive as she does, but there's nothing to help it. Nothing she's willing to try, like forgetting it, for example. Beca never objects to a kiss, anyway, and never asks for an explanation.

(Not anymore, anyway, but those questions used to be a constant in their lives before moving in together. It's not been long, but Chloe's already used to it.)

"Have you been in here for long?" Beca asks, curious more than anything. At some point down the line, she's got used to changing her usual defensiveness into curiosity pretty fast, although it still slips through her words when her eyes are looking into someone else's. Anyone who doesn't have the specific shade of blue.

Chloe shakes her head readily, slowly grazing her fingertips down Beca's sides until her palms settle on her waist and stay there. She pushes forward a little, until Beca's back hits the piano a little too roughly for either of their liking. They don't say anything about it. "Not sure," Chloe tells her. "You know, just because your studio's in our house doesn't mean it's not a room."

Beca knows exactly where this is going, and she has a lot to say about it. "I guess," is the only thing she provides in response. It's not really much of a protest or... well, anything, but she follows it with a particularly stern look that means absolutely nothing to Chloe. "This is a technicality."

"Well, you never said anything about it."

Beca has too many protests ready to come out, but then Chloe kisses her and every single one flutters out of her mind with ease. Knowing she's about to get laid helps in making her forget that this is a very expensive piano she's leaning against and she'd have to polish it right after.

* * *

Honestly, Aubrey doesn't see the charm of a small living room-like area that Chloe insists is cute. It's a studio, it should really be all business. ("And absolutely zero fun," Beca adds when Aubrey talks about it on the way from the airport.) Still, it blends in with the room, that much she can give her best friend.

Fat Amy loves it. They're as different as it gets, in every possible way. She's already taken residence in one of the armchairs, claiming checking for comfort is a must while they're there. Beca's already told them the studio is a one-time thing only, there's no reason to risk anything.

"This reminds me of when I went on this walk about around my house - till that kangaroo stepped too close to me and I had to go back - and I sat on the sidewalk to cool off a little," Fat Amy tells them, eyes closing slowly as she enjoys the apparent comfort of the chair. Beca's just thankful she didn't opt to check out the technology, she's happy to let out a relieved sigh at that.

Chloe is as excited as she'd been on the first day. Beca doesn't get it, but somehow Chloe's best friends with Aubrey and she has to deal with it. At least they're not in the same state. Not that she dares note that at every point it pops up in her brain, because the last time ended with her spending the night on the couch.

She does not want a repeat performance of that, she had back problems for a few whole days after that and made sure to complain about it. She wouldn't put it past Chloe to disregard her comfort for the sake of proper dramatics. Aubrey probably loves it, too.

"It looks... decent." Aubrey's compliments come always with a sour taste on her tongue lingering in the tone. "Really," she adds, just in case it seems dishonest. She's many things, Aubrey, but Beca never thinks of her as a liar. She has too much of a giveaway in her eyes and the way she

scrunches her nose discretely to pull off anything more than a little white lie.

Beca nods. "Thanks," she only says it when she sees Chloe's head tipped towards her and arched eyebrows. It's not that she needs prompting, but the compliment itself seems good on its own, so she really doesn't think it's needed to acknowledge it. The satisfactory smirk on Aubrey's face lets her know it's appreciated.

"We should go to the living room."

"Yeah, it's cool. If you ever need a rapper to sign, you know," Amy suggests, just as Beca ushers her out of the room. "I'll be around."

Beca's pretty sure she's joking, but she adds a dangerously serious wink at the end of the statement. Maybe she'll just pretend she doesn't hear her, or something, that seems like one of the safest options right now. Thankfully, she's not called out on it.

"So how's Bumper?" She asks, quite begrudgingly as she knows what'll come. She just hopes Amy's stories are not as detailed as they used to be. She's not sure she can handle another scarring story to try and bleach out of her mind.

The story starts with something called MFST, and she's not sure she wants to tune in for the rest and find out what Amy's given that acronym to.

* * *

Beca's going to regret this in the morning. Right now, though, that's the furthest thing from her mind. She can think about the consequences of tonight when she wakes up with a pulsing headache and no appetite.

Her and Jesse's night out's gone down a different path than she imagined it would. She doesn't really care, there's no Chloe to nag her about drinking too much when she has appointments the next day. Worst case scenario, she has to cancel some of said appointments - not a big deal. So when she heads out of the house, she doesn't even think about driving.

The cab ride home is eventful, but whatever. She can take the driver's judging gaze in the rear-view mirror because she and Jesse are rushing before they forget their song. It's important that he hurries up with the driving, she even offers to pay the speeding ticket if they get caught. The driver doesn't listen.

So they get to the house in twenty-three minutes, if her math is correct. She doesn't leave extra for the cab driver.

Jesse pulls her out of the car with a rushed excitement. They end up in the studio before either of them has time to think about it more. It's just that they're in their element right now, they can't actually stop at any cost because it will only make them lose it.

They can't afford that, their idea is brilliant.

So when Chloe walks into the studio (it's not her fault, the door was open), she murmurs, "you've got to be kidding me," before leaning against the edge of the soundboard and listening. It's a good rendition of a song, a little too off pitch for her to say she loves it. She does love Beca's enthusiastic expression though.

When they stop singing, she presses the button that lets them hear her. "Hey, you two," she greets, her voice tired more than anything but unnoticed when Jesse waves at her and Beca widens her eyes in surprise. "Whatcha doing?" She questions, watching as Beca makes her way out of the

booth and next to her.

"We wrote a song," Beca explains, getting a loud snort in return. "What? I'm more than some big shot producer, Chlo," she goes on to say, eyes narrowing as she gazes into Chloe's with no real focus.

"Yeah, you are," Chloe leaves out the part about it already being a song. She doesn't want to make her grin falter when it's so rare she gets to see it. "Did you have a nice night out?" She opts to ask the question instead of saying anything more about the song. Beca obliges in following the changed topic.

She nods. "Obviously. We went to a couple of bars," she's not sure why she adds the wink at the end, but she does. "Can you believe that someone recognized me? I'm serious, dude. With the _oh my god_ as they saw me, too. Like I'm some celebrity."

She's exaggerating, really, but that's how the exchange goes in her mind as she repeats it to Chloe. Jesse confirms it with, "I can attest to that," still behind the microphone and a little too loudly for Chloe's liking.

"You can tell me all about it in the morning," Chloe follows the statement with a firm hand placed on Beca's back and a wave to Jesse. "Time to sleep, Jesse," he doesn't need much more than that.

As the night slowly comes to its end, Chloe hears Beca whispering. "Do you think I can ask for my star on the Walk of Fame now?"

* * *

She has everything planned - the romantic dinner at Chloe's favorite restaurant, a bribe for the manager to let Jesse sing a song, the ring to be put in the mint white chocolate cake she'll order for Chloe.

Except the very night it's supposed to happen, she knows it's too predictable. Beca's not a romantic (far from it), but she doesn't exactly want this to be something Chloe knows will happen as soon as they enter the restaurant. Date nights aren't as fancy as she once thought they should be by default, and this would be a dead giveaway.

And she has this epiphany just as Chloe enters the studio to see if she's ready to head out. "No," she answers, the word fast on her lips and her back turned to the girl. Her head drops with her eyes as they settle on the floor. What if Chloe wants the whole ordeal of a romantic dinner before proposal? She knows that she adores romantic comedies she doesn't see why her idea of a good proposal would be anything less than those standards.

Perhaps it's not a good idea to turn around with hesitance still in her eyes. Chloe's always been able to read her expression. Maybe always is pushing it - but at least from the moment Beca started loosening up around her. And she's very aware of how this looks, her arms standing frigid against her sides and a sigh tumbling past her lips. This has breakup written all over it.

"Is something wrong?" Chloe asks, deliberately prolonging each word to make sure she has enough time to look at Beca. Maybe she's reading things incorrectly. She can't help how her breath catches in irregular beats and how her eyes search for an answer more than her words do.

She's always been good with words, but this is not something she's prepared for. Beca is, though, and maybe it's balancing the situation out that the one time she has no words, Beca provides them, as unlikely as it all seems.

"Everything's perfect," Beca assures her. "I had this whole plan on going to your favorite restaurant, everything planned out - I even wrote it in one of my notebooks, explicitly explaining every detail of the night that's supposed to be starting right about now."

She stops only to steady her wavering tone, because her words come out with less confidence than she's supposed to be projecting at this moment. (The whole situation is not ideal, give her a break.) "Jesse's going to kill me, he's supposed to sing our song at the restaurant as I give you the ring, but," Beca pauses only to fish the ring out of her pocket. "This feels right."

It's hard - almost impossible - to leave Chloe Beale speechless, but Beca manages it. Tears are welling up in her eyes, she can see that, but other than that, there is no sign of words coming out any time soon, so she does the logical thing to do at that moment; she gets on one knee.

There's no ring box because that was never the plan, so she holds the ring awkwardly until Chloe murmurs for her to get up in a voice that's not recognizable. Too curt, too restrained. Beca's gone from excited to doubtful in a split second, and she drops the ring. Of course she does.

She only gets up after she finds it on the floor. "Ask me," Chloe requests, nodding toward the ring decidedly.

"Ma-" Beca stops, recollects herself, and tries again. "Chloe, will you be my wife?" She asks, because marry me seems too little to say. Marry me is impersonal, unacceptable, and definitely the thing she has scribbled in her notebook. Marry me gives the right idea, but not the message.

Because wife rolls off her tongue with the implication of eternity. It holds multiple lives in it, has all of the necessary messages Beca wants to give. To give, give and keep giving as long as Chloe wants her. Forever isn't long enough, but wife holds the promise of finding Chloe in another universe if it's the last thing she does.

"Yes."

Beca waits for more than that, more words, more excitement, more... everything. It comes in form of a kiss that has no restraints. They're ready for this.

(Beca's been ready since their first official date, somewhere on the outskirts of Atlanta after she drives in the wrong direction. She guesses it's good she lost her way back then, it's led them to here.

Chloe's been sure of it when they were in Beca's apartment, cuddling on the couch long after the movie she's forced Beca to watch was over. That night, Beca's arms felt like home.)

The scream that Beca anticipates does come, albeit a little later than she expects it.

* * *

Years later, Beca remembers that day as one of the highlights of her life. She didn't do the typical movie proposal, but she did manage to get the girl. And she knows she's had Chloe ever since her freshman year, but it's been too long since their first meeting, their relationship only gradually strengthening.

She notes, as she sits in her chair in the studio which hasn't changed too much, that it's fitting she proposed in the one place she has both her music and her wife at the same time. It's business, it's her job and it's tedious on most days, but it's special.

Because that's where she creates her sound, sculpts it as carefully as she possibly can and tries to make artists out of mostly young people whose words inspire her.

It's her one escape next to Chloe, and she's happy to share the space with her. She looks down at her ring, then at the booth, and finally back to the ceiling in thought - she's been so lucky to get this room for herself, right underneath their bedroom.

More than any other room in the house, the studio feels like home.

* * *

thank you for reading, any comments about this are appreciated!


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